Remember; You Have the Universe

[ 7 ]

Kjrsten
and I
do our usual
weekly check-in.
She asks me
how Group was
and I tell her
every time
that I wish Group
wasn't held
in the hospital.
And every week,
we analyze
the memories
it brings up
to walk through
the Pulmonary Wing.
She fills me in
on the latest
annoying thing
her roommate did,
and as always,
I tell her
to find a new roommate,
and she defends her,
because she's too nice
to leave.

This week, though,
I also ask her
about school.
I missed Homecoming,
which I was supposed
to help decorate for.
She says that
it was good,
but the balloons
didn't really fall
when they pulled
the ropes.
She assures me
it would have worked
if I had been there.
Together,
we laugh at
Student Council's
minor failing
and pretend
they're nothing
without Cadence and me
because I'm
not ready
to talk about
the date
I accidentally ghosted
and the poor guy
Cadence cancelled on
so I wasn't
the only one
at the hospital
instead of
Homecoming,
even if the doctors
didn't allow her in
my room
to visit.

I receive
my work
from her
that I missed
last week.
It was only
two days
so the load
isn't bad,
but there's
definitely
going to be
a need for
Math Lab.

After my visit
with Kjersten,
I sneak out
the back way
so I don't have
to fake smile.
I know they'll
love me the same
regardless,
but faking it
is a habit
developed by
everyone
who experiences
anything remotely
unhappy.
Aren't we all
always being
fake
with each other?

I head over
to the
Attendance Office,
where Monique
and Shelley
smile when they
see me.
The Monique frowns.
She opens her mouth
to scold me,
but I sigh
and pull out
my black and white
face mask,
sliding the strings
over my ears,
feeling trapped
and Claustrophobic.
I feel so much
smaller
as a person
with this stupid
face mask on.

"You know
how dangerous
that is."
She folds her arms,
melting my resolve
with that stare.

"It's just
suffocating,"
I say.

"Did you take
your meds
this morning?"
She asks.

I confirm
that I did,
in fact,
have pills
shoved down
my throat
by my overbearing
mother.

"All of them?"
Monique raises
her eyebrows.

I resist
rolling my eyes,
answer truthfully.
"Yes."

She gives me
The Look.
Sometimes it feels like
I get mothered more
here at school
than by my
actual mother.
And my mom
is pretty on top of
keeping her
dying child
alive.

"I just don't have
time for
hospital trips and
breathing
treatments."
I whine.
"Or IV's."
I reach out
my arm,
showing her my
arm that may as well
be a
battlefield photograph
in a museum.

"You may not
want
to take care of
yourself,
but the worse
you get,
the more limited
you'll actually
be."

And as much as
I fight it,
I know that
she's telling me
the truth.

Because it's this
or the nasal cannula.